Free Trade by Tabitha A Lane

shimmied out of them. “Aren’t you coming for a swim?”
    She stepped past him, into the
clear water.
    Her heart was racing. The stream
wasn’t very deep, but the silky water lapped around her knees and as she
ventured further in, it covered her bottom and flowed around her waist. She
bent her knees, extended her arms, and dipped her chest and shoulders under the
water. As her heated body cooled, she sighed, and glanced over her shoulder.
    Sholto had discarded his boots,
and shed his pants. Since he’d stripped off his shirt, she’d been distracted by
his chest, his back, his strong arms. He was more lean and rangy than buff and
built—his body was the sort of body an average guy could build with long hours
at the gym or working a physical job. His muscle definition was honed, and his
abs made him look as though he’d escaped from that movie about Sparta. But with
his pants off, the grooves at his hips were visible. She’d seen him on screen
wearing less, but this was different. He wasn’t a celluloid dream, but a man
made of flesh and blood. A man she could touch.
    Max swallowed. “Come on in, it’s
lovely.” In the dappled light, he was so perfect she couldn’t draw her gaze
away. Her breath hitched as he shed his underwear and stood before her, totally
naked.
    His cock jutted away from his
body, fully hard.
    Her nipples, chilled by the water
and aroused by the sight of Sholto’s nakedness, pebbled. Desire twisted in her
stomach, and her sex tingled and throbbed. When he stepped into the water and
walked to her, she was breathing so fast her chest rose and fell rapidly.
    He stopped. Close enough to touch.
To taste.
    His hand stroked over her naked
shoulder then slid beneath the water’s surface to grasp her elbow. He tugged
her up to standing. He didn’t need to tell her what was in his mind—his body
had that covered.
    And her body was listening.
    It was impossible to tell who moved
first, but somehow their bodies were in close contact, his hand was flat on the
curve of her spine, and his cock pressed into her stomach. She tilted her face
up, then his lips were on hers, hard and demanding.
    His tongue was in her mouth.
    Her hands traced his shoulders.
Smoothed over the back of his head. Questing fingers spiked into his hair. The
feel of his skin, the scent of his body, the taste of his mouth combined to a
powerful assault on the senses that made her head spin. She wanted to wrap her
legs around him, and feel his cock at her entrance. Wanted him to slip into her
wet, waiting heat and pound her to oblivion.
    His thumb flicked over her nipple,
and she moaned into his mouth.
    Warm, firm fingers gripped her
ass. His mouth left hers, and his lips moved to her neck, He sucked the
delicate skin into his mouth. She could feel the hard edge of his teeth—the
love bite would leave a mark, a mark no-one but he would see. Her fingers dug
into his shoulders.
    “We’re getting out of this damn
river,” he growled. He took her hand and led her to the bank, and eased her
down onto the soft grass. “You’re fucking beautiful.” His gaze examined every
inch of her, raw, potent desire written clearly in his eyes. He took both of
her arms and stretched them out wide. Then he trailed his fingertips over hers,
and stroked inwards. Up over her palms. Her wrists, the soft, white inner skin
of her forearms.
    She smiled when his light touch
stroked her inner elbows. Laughed when they brushed over the insides of her
upper arms and into the dip of her underarms. And blew out an agonized, aroused
breath when his hands covered her breasts and squeezed.
    “This isn’t how it’s supposed to
be.” His middle finger traced around her nipple, then out, in ever increasing
circles. “I’m supposed to be surviving here, not having fun.”
    Cold reason splashed over Max as
effectively as if he’d thrown a bucket of water over her. His hands were on
her, but his head… She angled her elbows onto the ground, and pushed up